


Most Favorite Boy Ever

by Fidelius



Series: Not Your Typical Family Drabbles [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Nonsexual Ageplay, Pining, Steve and Tony are a mess but they're sorting their shit, cinnamon roll turkeys, coffee milk is real and also allowed in Brooklyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fidelius/pseuds/Fidelius
Summary: Three texts. Nine words and a picture. That was all it took to get Steve’s heart racing.





	Most Favorite Boy Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not be alarmed by two updates in one day. I am not kidnapped. I had free time is all. I have no idea if that will ever happen again.

Three texts. Nine words and a picture. That was all it took to get Steve’s heart racing.

The picture was of three plates on Phil’s kitchen table. One purple and two red. All three held two croissant pizza roll-ups and a variety of veggies. The texts that followed provided the only info Steve needed for the picture to make sense.

 

_**Guess who came for dinner?** _

_**Breakfast is at 9** _

He wanted to ask if Tony was okay. To demand to know what had driven Tony there, to Phil’s, instead of to Steve’s apartment in the tower. Instead, he took a deep breath, made sure his alarm was set and sent a quick “you got it” text back to Phil.

He had questions, but they could wait. Phil would have told him more if he needed to know more.

Sixteen hours wasn’t all that long.

 

Steve practically ran up the steps from the train station, his messenger bag slapping against his hip as he took them two at a time. Phil’s place was only a few blocks away, but he wanted to be there _yesterday_ so he crossed against the light and made a beeline for the brownstone. It was only eight-thirty, but Steve had a feeling Phil would forgive him for being early. Usually, he would shoot off a text to check and see if Phil needed him to pick anything up. But it wasn’t a typical day; he, hopefully, had a boy to meet after all.

It was Bruce who opened the door for him when he knocked, his messy curls and bare chest-sleep pants combo made it clear he’d spent the night as well. Most days, Steve would have asked what he was doing there, but it wasn’t most days, and he was on a mission.

Bruce held the door open for him and stepped to the side. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as Steve walked into the entryway and toed off his shoes.

“He’s in the kitchen cutting up strawberries for the turkeys’ faces.”

Steve paused, his messenger bag halfway to the floor and lifted an eyebrow, “Turkey faces?”

Bruce shrugged and flipped the bolt on the front door, “All I know is that strawberries and blueberries make good turkey faces. That’s all they told me.”  
“And bacon makes the best feathers!” Clint’s disembodied voice floated out from the living room to tell them.

Any other morning would have Steve settled in the living room with Clint, but he wanted to be where Tony was. Besides, Bruce was already headed back into the living room. Clint didn’t need his company too.

The walk from the entryway to the kitchen was quick, but it wasn’t until he was standing in the doorway that he was able to hear the soft conversation between Phil and Tony.

“...use the plastic one? I’m big like you. I can use a regular knife.”

“How about this?” Phil pushed back from his place at the table and looked over Tony’s shoulder at Steve, “You can use a sharp knife if you let my friend Steve help you.”

Tony froze at the mention of Steve. Slowly, as if he were afraid Steve might jump out and get him, Tony turned towards the kitchen door.

“Oh.”

That one word carried the weight of so many things that Steve didn’t even know where to start. Tony looked surprised and worried as if he hadn’t known Steve was coming. But he had to have. Steve had mentioned his plans with Phil a few days beforehand...there was no way Tony didn’t know.

“Tony, can my friend Steve help you with the strawberries?” Phil’s voice was patient, just like it tended to be with Clint and Natasha, and Steve was grateful that Tony had gone to him.

He’d hoped that Tony would come to him for this. That he’d ride the elevator to Steve’s floor and ask to play or color or cuddle. That he’d shyly mention he wanted a daddy too. But it hadn’t been him, it had been Phil. Which was probably a good thing in the long run. There was less chance for miscommunication there.

Tony turned his attention back to Phil, his dark eyes large with...something, and nodded.

Steve expected Phil to remind Tony that daddies can’t hear nods, just like he did with Clint and Natka, but all Phil did was reach out and ruffle Tony’s hair.

“Thanks, buddy. Steve, if you could grab another paring knife and then come over here that would be great.”

And just like that, Steve was at Tony’s side at Phil’s table. Paring knives in hand, they hulled and sliced strawberries in silence.  
Awkward silence.

Phil, as always, took care of that too. As soon he was finished putting a tray of what looked like spiky cinnamon rolls in the oven he came back to the table with two cups of coffee.

Setting a cup in front of Steve, he moved around the table until he was at Tony’s other side.

“Thanks,” Steve murmured into the mug.

“Figured you could use some.” Phil’s eyes darted over to Tony for a second, “I’ve had this day before.”

Tony finished slicing the last strawberry and turned his attention to Phil, “Can I have some coffee too?”

There was something in his voice that Steve had never heard before. His tone was the same, but something about him was softer; sweeter even. Clint and Natka were the same way in their Little spaces. Witnessing Tony like that made Steve’s heart race.

“Coffee is for gro-.”

“In Rhode Island, kids get coffee milk. Everyone says that is okay.” Tony blurted out over Phil’s attempt to inform him that coffee wasn’t for kids.

Phil nodded, “That’s true. But this is Brooklyn, and in Brooklyn, kids don’t get coffee. They get juice. Would you like some juice, Tony?”

Steve didn’t know what to do. He didn’t really see the harm in letting Tony have coffee. Back in the twenties, when he’d been a ten-pound asthmatic, his doctor had instructed his mother - and then the nuns - to give him coffee to help him breathe. It had been acceptable then and, according to Tony, was still fine in the state of Rhode Island. But they were in Phil’s house, and Tony had gone to Phil for help. That made him the boss.

Tony mumbled something that sounded a lot like _coffee bean juice_ before he shrugged. His lower lip wasn’t sticking out, but his shoulders had slumped, and his entire body gave off an air of petulance. Steve knew that on another day, some time in their shared future, Tony’s pout would be less adorable. But that day hadn’t arrived yet, and as he looked at Tony pouting there in his chair, all Steve wanted to do was pull him into his lap and kiss his knitted up brow.

Instead of doing just that, Steve cleared his throat and looked at Phil.

“What about chocolate milk?” He knew that Phil kept chocolate and strawberry drink syrup in the fridge for Clint and Natka. “It looks like coffee but tastes a whole lot better.”  
“That’s not a bad idea, Steve. Tony, would you like some chocolate milk?”

Steve wanted Tony to say yes. He _needed_ Tony to say yes. Because if Tony said yes, then he could help him. He could get up and pour a glass of milk and have Tony help him with the syrup before showing the boy - _his_ boy - how to stir in the chocolate.

But Tony didn’t say yes.

Natka did.

“How come Tony gets chocolate milk? I want chocolate milk!”

Steve knew that chocolate milk was for the afternoon and not breakfast, but he’d wanted to make Tony happy. Everyone liked chocolate milk.

Well...almost everyone.

“NOT FAIR!” Clint hollered as he followed Natka into the kitchen. Bruce, now wearing a shirt, followed behind them looking amused. “How come they get treats, but I don’t? I want strawberry milk!”

Phil didn’t say a word, he just raised an eyebrow at Steve and sipped his coffee. Steve had thrown the party, and it was his job to clean up the mess.

“No one has choc-. Clint, don’t interrupt please.” Steve cut Clint off before he could get started.

“No one has chocolate or strawberry milk. Tony wanted coffee, and we were offering him an alternative. If you want some too, you have to ask your daddy. You know the rules about chocolate and strawberry milk.”

Steve expected sass from Clint. He was the poster child for sass. If one looked sass up in the dictionary, there was a picture of Clint. Steve suspected that Tony’s photo would be there too, but he couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of was Natka’s general lack of sass.

And yet, as he’d informed them that they needed to ask their daddy, she’d crossed her arms over her chest and her eyes had narrowed.

“You said chocolate milk, Capt’n Steve. You said Tony could have some.”

“Yeah, but Natka,” Clint spoke up, and Steve could see what was coming and like a trainwreck he knew there was no way to stop it, “Capt’n Steve is Tony’s daddy s-.”

“No, he’s not.”

Tony’s words cut through the noise in the kitchen like a hot knife through butter. No one made a sound, and Steve was absolutely positive that everyone in the kitchen heard his heart as it shattered into a million pieces.

It didn’t matter that comment broke his heart because Tony was right, Steve wasn’t his daddy. He hadn’t earned the title. They hadn’t discussed it or even acknowledged it before Steve had shown up at Phil’s with three coloring books and the hope that it was finally time for things to fall into place. Instead of letting himself be saddened or hurt by Tony’s words, Steve patted Tony’s shoulder and nodded.

“You’re right, kiddo. I’m not. But I would like to be your grown-up friend if you’d be okay with that?

“Alright, then.” He said when Tony nodded, “In that case, I’m going to make you that chocolate milk. Phil, would it be alright if I made some for Natka and Clint as well?”

It was the work of minutes to make a cup each of chocolate and strawberry milk. While Steve, Natka, and Clint readied the drinks, Phil took the tray of cinnamon buns out of the oven. Tony stayed at the table where he’d been sitting, but his eyes were focused on Steve the entire time.

Steve handed Natka and Clint their plastic cups - complete with lids and bendy straws - and sent them to the table before turning his attention to Tony.

“Would you like me to make you some chocolate milk, Tony?”

An age passed before Tony, his eyes downcast and his bottom lip between his teeth, shook his head no.

Steve didn’t let himself feel crushed. He wanted Tony to try, but he also knew that he had to go at Tony’s pace. He couldn’t rush things if he wanted to get to a place where Tony trusted him with his Little side.

Taking a deep breath, Steve tried again.

“How about strawberry milk?”

Tony shook his head again, but this time, he looked up at Steve when he did it. His big, brown eyes were a bit watery, and he looked so unhappy that Steve didn’t think before he moved across the kitchen to kneel in front of his sweet, sad boy.

“Oh, sweet pea, what’s the matter? You look so sad.”

Tony sniffed and let out a shaky breath before leaning in and pressing his forehead to Steve’s, “Don’t like that kinda milk.”

Steve thanked whatever god was listening that it was the milk that was upsetting Tony and not him.

“How bout I pour you a cup of juice and then later, if you’re okay with it, you can help me get the supplies for coffee milk to keep at my apartment?”

“Okay,” Tony said softly as he nodded, his brown eyes full of hope. “Can we do that today when we go home?”

Steve knew Tony didn’t mean that his apartment was their home. He meant the tower, where they all lived, not Steve’s apartment in the tower. But he still let the image of Tony sharing that space with him drift through his mind as he poured the orange juice and they all sat down to breakfast.

He let his mind linger on the stickers he kept hidden in the drawer in this room. He thought about the three coloring books in his messenger bag and twenty-four pack of crayons he’d brought along just in case Tony didn’t want to share Natka and Clint’s art supplies.

As he watched Tony decorate his cinnamon bun turkey with a swirl of blueberries, Steve decided to bring up the coloring books. If nothing else it would show Tony that he’d been thinking about taking care of him.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at Natka and Clint, “Don’t you two have a surprise for me?”

Natka giggled into her forkful of cinnamon bun, and Phil shook his head with a fond smile as Clint huffed and gestured to himself, Natka, and Tony.

“No. _You_ have a surprise for _us_!”

“I don’t know…” Steve said, his voice thoughtful. “I’m pretty sure I heard you say that you had a surprise for me last time I saw you.”

“I think I heard him say that too.” Bruce winked at Natka as he spoke, causing her to giggle even harder.

“Nuh uh!” Clint’s voice was half indignant as he stabbed his cinnamon bun turkey, “Tell him, Tony.”

“I...I don’t... wasn’t there.” Tony’s voice was soft as he looked from Clint to Steve.

 

“It’s okay, buddy. I was just teasing Clint.” Steve said as he sat his fork down and pushed away from the table, “I’ll go get that surprise. Nobody move until I get back!”

Steve hoped that what he was about to do would work because if it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what else he could do.

The trip to the hallway and back took less than a minute but when Steve settled in his chair, he noticed that Clint had his fork halfway to his mouth and Natka was holding a blueberry between her front teeth. They were both seemingly frozen in time there at the table. Phil sat unmoving between them, his mug of coffee pressed to his lips. Bruce sat to Natka’s left, his knife and fork frozen in the middle of cutting a bit of cinnamon bun.

Tony was the only one moving. His eyes darted from person to person as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“What happened?” Steve asked, his voice threaded with faux worry.

“I dunno! You said 'don’t move' and they _stayed_ like that!”

“Oh no! You don’t think they’re…” Steve leaned towards Tony and dropped his voice to a whisper, “ _frozen_ , do you?”

Tony’s eyes grew big as he looked at his friends.

“Frozen?” He asked, his voice also barely more than a whisper, “Like, forever?”

Steve shook his head, “No, not forever. Just until we say the magic word.

“Do you know the magic word, Tony?”

Tony shook his head with a sigh, “No.”

“That’s okay because guess what?” Steve whisper-asked conspiringly.

“What?” Tony’s voice shook with hopeful glee.

“I know the magic word. Want me to tell you?”

When Tony nodded, Steve leaned in further and whispered the magic word in Tony’s ear. Up close like that he was able to see the way his proximity made Tony shiver. It wasn’t the time or the place, but Steve couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at the evidence that Tony liked keeping Little secrets with him.

“Can I say it?” Tony asked when Steve moved back.

At Steve’s nod, Tony waved his fork in the air and shouted, “Unfreeze!”

As soon as the word was out of Tony’s mouth, Clint moved his fork and Natka bit through her blueberry. Bruce continued cutting up his cinnamon bun, and Phil took a sip of his coffee.

Steve, who couldn’t help himself, ruffled Tony’s hair with a smile, “Good job, sweet pea.”

The praise made Tony blush and hide his face. Steve wanted to lift his chin and call him pretty and tell him to let everyone see his lovely face, but he didn’t. It was too soon for things like that. Besides, he had surprises to hand out.

“Are you ready for your surprises?” Steve held up his messenger bag and wiggled it, “Because I am.”

Natka nodded, and Clint did a little dance in his chair as Steve opened the bag. Beside him, Tony focused on his blueberries and didn’t acknowledge that Steve had spoken. That was okay with Steve. He knew that Tony must be thinking that he was going to be left out. It just so happened that Tony was wrong, but that would be settled in a moment.

“For Natka.” Steve handed a coloring book to Natasha and then reached into his bag for another one, “And for Clint.”

Beside him, Tony bit his lip but kept his eyes firmly on his breakfast.

That gave Steve the chance to pull out the third coloring book and crayons.

“And these are for Tony.”

Tony’s head snapped up, his eyes filled with surprise. “You got me somethin’ too?”

Steve placed the coloring book and crayons beside Tony’s plate. “Absolutely! I wouldn’t forget to get a surprise for my favorite boy.”

“I’m your favorite boy?” Tony asked, his voice so soft and small that it made Steve want to cry.

Throwing caution to the wind, Steve decided to do what his gut had been screaming for him to do since he’d walked into Phil’s kitchen and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“My most favorite boy ever.”

There was more they needed to discuss, but it could wait. Right that moment they had breakfast to finish and coloring books to break in and Steve didn’t want to miss a minute of the first morning of the rest of their lives.


End file.
